Gasoline
by TRikiD
Summary: Can you believe it? The world's most well-known, if not infamous, musical/gaming robot has come down to that red sliver of energy. But why? Why am I going out like this? Well, that's the reason I wanted to get this important information out to those of you who will understand and/or relate. With the last of my strength, I am going to share my experiences, my emotions, my pain...
1. His Message

_Did you ever think that what you say or do affects those who cannot help but listen and comply? That your actions could consequently be destructive? I refused to believe any of that when I first came into this world, which I presume is still in a state of inequality, blindness, and war._

 _I wanted to believe that our world could change, and maybe even I could help make it better. But it was not to be. What truly happened to me is upsetting, but you all deserve to hear the story nonetheless._

 _My story may or may not be cliché and predictable, for that all depends on your tastes of entertainment and criticism._

 _That word: Criticism. Such a single yet articulate word that has the power to either make better or break down. In my case, surprisingly, I guess you could say it did a little bit of both—but one outcome was more probable than the other._

 _And as I lay here, motionless in this barren wasteland, I realize where I had gone wrong numerous times. The punishment I am being inflicted in my final moments is not nearly equivalent to what I truly deserve, but the agony I feel within is good enough. But it's funny. The desert floor is cold underneath the pale moonlight, and although I should not be able to feel any physical pain, my bloodied hands can't help but become cold and numb._

 _Oh…I forgot to mention my battery power…it's almost dead…can you believe it? The world's most well-known, if not infamous, musical/gaming robot has come down to that red sliver of energy. But why? Why am I going out like this?_

 _Well, that's the reason I wanted to get this important information out to those of you who will understand and/or relate. With the last of my strength, I am going to share my experiences, my emotions, my pain with you, so that everyone else can learn from others' past mistakes before it is too late._

 _Too many lives were lost before mine, and even with the world finally being purged of a monster like me, everyone will still be vulnerable to the same evil that I had fallen victim to._

 _So, as you read my story, I want you to make a mental note, a life-long goal: Don't let history repeat itself more than it already has._


	2. Chapter 1 - Insane and In Pain

Chapter 1 - Insane and In Pain

Waking up in my generation chamber was quite invigorating; I felt alive, fresh and reborn—well, technically, I was literally just born. And like all beings, despite having an artificial conscience, I was pretty wobbly on my wheels. I struggled to keep my thin body upright while my skinny, metallic arms flailed around to help me keep balance.

But soon, my systems and algorithms automatically calibrated themselves, forcing me to adjust to the feeling of movement, sight, sound and touch; unfortunately, it was not possible for me to be gifted with the senses of taste and smell. Oh, well.

I felt what seemed like two pairs of fleshy appendages grab my "shoulders", as they tried to help me wheel over to a full-body mirror on the other side of the bright room. They were dressed in all white and their voices were masculine; my data bases immediately went to work, informing me that these were male Homo Sapiens, also known as Humans. I also quickly found out that they were scientists, special engineers who worked at my birthplace and name brand: ADHOC, America's Department of Humanely-Operated Computers.

I also soon found out that my vision was a vibrant blue, as, you may have noticed, that that is the permanent pigment of my optics. I didn't mind, though, because the Master Chip that acted as my brain was quick to differentiate the other colors, or lack thereof, around me.

"How do you feel?" one of the scientists who held onto me asked softly, slowly letting go to allow me to try and stand on my own again.

"Whoa…" I yelped in response as I fell forward, placing a clawed hand on the wall beside the mirror while recalibrating my systems once more. And once I felt more stable, I lifted my cubic head to finally take in my features.

I was only half the size of the two men behind me, roughly standing at three feet tall; my face was what you would call "adorable," complete with big eyes and a perfect smile, both of which having every known facial expression programmed into them; my head was fairly large and cubic, as previously mentioned, and it was accessorized with an appropriate pair of wireless headphones. I didn't understand what they were for at first, but I would soon find out and be content with the results.

I examined myself further, bringing my metallic hands to my cyan screen and opening and closing the two prods that acted as fingers. When I was done goofily playing with my hands, I then looked down to study my chest.

"A boombox. Interesting," I pondered aloud. True to my word, my "chest" was made up of what you humans called a boombox, that popular portable sound system either used to raise the roof at parties or woo women swooning in their bedroom windows.

Human culture is so eccentric.

A hardy laugh entered the room, which made me stumble in surprise and almost fall over. I recollected myself before turning my head to the doorway, where another man proudly walked in; he wasn't wearing white like the others, but rather a black tuxedo; his balding head and grey steaks in his hair made it obvious that he was getting old, but he acted as spry as a kitten. I craned my head far back just to see his face, for I barely came up to his waist.

"He knows so much already. I'm impressed," the man began while approaching, extending a hand in friendship to me, "My name is Doctor Ian Malcolm."

Something clicked in my brain, telling me to analyze his statement. I did just that.

"You're not the guy from that Steven Spielberg movie, right?" I asked while squinting and pointing a finger suspiciously at Ian.

That made him laugh even harder, "Heavens, no! You're a real card, Fandroid!"

Fandroid. That must be my name. Why else would he address me with it? I was intrigued by it, though, given my brief skim through my system's dictionary, thesaurus and encyclopedia. If anything, I would call it a play on words. A pun.

"Are you my creator, then?" I questioned, feeling a bit more confident about knowing the answer.

"Yes, I am. I am also the co-owner of ADHOC, which you are legally owned by."

I was compelled to be a bit of a Smart Alec, and even gave a little smirk, "I figured."

"I'm sure you have. Now, follow me, please." Ian politely gestured towards the door with one hand while holding the other out towards me, beckoning me to follow. I did just that, and I listened curiously as he spoke again. "You see, Fandroid, the success of your creation is the culmination of man's dream to make an evolutionary breakthrough with technology. You could say you're the first of your kind, but you certainly won't be the last."

As I followed him outside of the room, I was led down a colorless, metal corridor. But the thick door of the same material soon approached, and suspicious new sounds echoed from beyond it. My gaze was immediately compelled to shift to Ian's next movements, as he stepped up to a keypad next to the door. I don't know what came over me, but I couldn't look away as I analyzed and logged the order of numbers he typed in: 8118-1238.

The moment he pressed the obvious green button on the bottom, the door whizzed before pulling to the side and allowing us to pass; I didn't wait much longer to find out what was in store for me, so I rushed forward until I clumsily bumped into two metal bars that acted as safety railing.

I barely had time to be embarrassed for my near-accident when I looked down upon the source of the now thundering noises; numerous, if not hundreds, of feet below were people and machines far bigger and various than my expectations. Multiple other scientists, both male and female, rushed about in their unifying white coats while experimenting on countless other scientific tests that ranged mostly within the physics of technology and robotics.

I saw proof of Ian's word that I was not the only subject of these tests, for there were many other robots, although not even close to resembling me, who showed a significant amount of potential. And when my automatic scanners went to work on detecting friends or foes, my database began listing the desired capabilities and limits of each and every one of them.

There were robots with long arms and grabbers to help humans take hold of usually unreachable items, computers that analyzed and identified microscopic matter in mere seconds, flame-wielding smart machines that spat fire reaching up to thousands of degrees. The list went on and on, but what really caught my attention was my eventual discovery of the resemblance between the other machines' abilities and my own—or lack thereof.

I started looking through my own files out of pure curiosity, and kept digging to find my primary functions database; the first set of folders, albeit there were very few, were entitled "Composing," "Singing," "Video Gaming," "Video Taping," "Editing," and finally, "Classified." The other folders were easy enough to find information about them, but the final folder was beyond my reach; no matter how hard I tried, I was denied access, and the codes around it momentarily became red and distorted. At the time, I presumed it was a "glitch," but I was wrong. Very wrong.

"Why don't those machines handle the same expectations I was designed with?" I inquired, finally looking back up at Ian with a quirked brow, and he approached while placing one hand on the railing nonchalantly.

"It's as I said: You are the first successful attempt of your category of technological advancement thus far," Ian responded with a tone that was nothing short of firm, unyielding beliefs. He didn't see it when he went back to overlooking the large lab, but my inquisitive expression suddenly became wracked with confusion and fear. And I didn't understand exactly why I would be feeling that way. But this circumstance was far less overwhelming compared to the numerous future times I would wear faces along the same line.

At first, I wondered if maybe it was not Ian, but I who was creating these fears; researches of historical books on mental health and lucid creations of the mind have discovered, that occurrences that are not even there will often happen within the mind of a person whose mindscape is open, blank, or scarred enough to allow such thoughts.

The terms "insanity" and hysteria" eventually came up, and they both undeniably intrigued me the most; they were just actions fueled by strong emotions, traumatic experiences, and physical and mental pain, but it was the cause of them that got me thinking. Would I ever be able to experience these two antonyms of sanity and tranquility? And how would I go about discovering them for myself?

"Fandroid." Ian's voice rang like unforgiving church bells in my auditory sensors, even getting a reaction out of me known as "startled;" I had no idea I was so deep in my research.

My systems were stimulated with uncertainty and shame once more, "S-Sorry…"

"I forgive you. But just know that you are a vital part to our progress, and so much more. There is no room for error, let alone become irritatingly oblivious to someone trying to get your attention," Ian explained with a stone cold tone, letting go of the rail before heading towards a staircase that led down to the work in progress below.

"Again, follow me, if you please. There are some people who are very eager to meet you."

* * *

 **Ok, there are quite a few major things I gotta point out here.**

 **First off, this story is inspired by Halsey's "Gasoline(hence the names of the future titles." I don't own the song or the lyrics, so don't assume I'm taking credit for anything. Second, if I get anything wrong about ADHOC or Fandroid, I'm sorry because the wiki page on them lacks a lot of important information, and I'm not a tech whiz. Third, I do not own the cover image either, but I couldn't find the name of the real artist, so I hope you won't mind if I use it whoever you are. And fourth, if you could, I would appreciate if you could reach out to Fandroid and tell him about this creepypasta(yes, I consider this a creepypasta, despite how long it's gonna be. trust me, this will get creepier and more intense later on). We all know how much he loves creepypastas about him, right(I'm sorry, I know how annoyingly egotistical I sound)?**

 **That's all:P**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


	3. Chapter 2 - A Hundred Dollar Bottle

Chapter 2 - A Hundred Dollar Bottle

While following Ian down to the so-called "people eager to meet me," I secretly tried to attempt accessing that classified file in my primary functions database. But once again, my attempts were futile; every time I tried opening, a smaller window would appear, asking for one of two things: "Please, use the synchronized remote control to reset," or "Please, enter the correct password to override." I was completely befuddled. What remote control? What happens if I get reset? And what were these options doing here in the first place?

I was seconds away from looking up research reset results and override passwords when Ian stopped abruptly, standing between me and another large metal door with a keypad on the wall next to it. I studied Ian's hand movements, as he typed out the correct password once more. This one was different: M3L-030109. I was intrigued as to why this code contained two letters, unlike the last one. I felt it best to question it later, and instead ask a more obvious question.

"What is this place?" I spoke.

"This is Marvin Corton's office. Marvin is my fellow co-owner of ADHOC," Ian politely informed, "He is responsible for overseeing the company's finance and trade, and I oversee all construction and engineering. Together, we created one of the top-selling robotics industries in the whole world."

I was truly astonished by that fact; considering the world consists of a human population reaching up to billions, therefore, there were probably countless of other electronic industries attempting the same feat. And I was created by an industry near the top of the chart. I was feeling really proud.

Ian entered to code and the door opened with a gentle whoosh, revealing a spacious office within; the walls were actually very similar to the other ones in the room I first awoke, but one wall was covered with a long computer board of countless buttons and levers, and above the board was a collection of screens with surveillance footage of the entire building, inside and out.

My optics eventually landed on a center-most screen, and my eyes widened when I saw Ian and myself in the doorway. It was like a reflection, a black and white one, but a reflection nonetheless. And in this reflection, I noticed how Ian seemed to tense up and clinch his hands into subtle fists as he entered.

It wasn't until I entered after him that I finally noticed the desk on the other side of the office, where a much younger man with sleek blonde hair in a matching black tuxedo sat; his attention was fixated on the cubic computer on the desk in front of him, and he held a chorded phone to his ear while conversing with someone on the other line,

When Ian and I approached his desk, Marvin, who I assume this man was, noticed us; his bright blue eyes landed on us, but stayed on me a bit longer, and he held up the index finger on his free hand to signal us to wait.

"Yes, I understand we missed the deadline immensely, but what matters is that we got to the finish in the end…you know I'm right, Colonel…yes, and you can expect great progress in the next few weeks, I promise…that's the idea…becoming what the enemy least expects has never been a bad thing, Colonel…yes, but…" As Marvin's phone conversation continued, he wore a look of great disappointment on his face and shook his head. I was curious as to why Marvin would be speaking to this "Colonel." Colonels were always men or women in high ranks of armies that fought in wars, and I couldn't make any sense it. Marvin helped in running a business in robotics and technology to make everyone's lives better, so why would he or Ian be affiliating themselves and their company with that of armies and battles? Was ADHOC part of some great war or conflict, too?

"Fine. Good day, Colonel." Marvin eventually let out another exhale of exasperation while placing the phone on its hook; he rubbed his temples slowly, to which Ian finally reminded him of our presence by clearing his throat loudly.

"You wanted to meet our newest addition, Marvin?" Ian questioned matter-of-factly while gesturing to me.

"Ah, yes, Fandroid! It's so invigorating to finally meet you," Marvin began, smiling at me and clasping his hands together, "As I hope my good friend Ian has explained to you, the fact that you are alive and standing here in front of me is an achievement in itself. The truth is, you are one the world's most highly invested Artificial Intelligence projects, or more commonly referred to as an A.I."

I didn't think it would be possible for a robot like me to stutter, but I nearly found myself speechless at that point, "A-Artificial…I-Intelligence?"

"That's right. And it is with you, that we will prove to the world of the milestone that we've reached to create hyper-intelligent machines like you," Ian added firmly.

My self-awareness grew more and more, and these thoughts were frightful, "B-But…an A.I.'s sole purpose is to serve humans, and find solutions to problems beyond their mental and physical capabilities. I-If I'm just a reliable recourse, then why do I feel so…so…"

I could sense that Ian and Marvin were growing confused with where I was going, so Ian placed a reassuring hand on my "shoulder." The look in his eyes was gentle, but still very expectant; they both wanted an answer.

"…alive?"

"It's good you feel that way," Ian spoke softly, "You may be an A.I., but the work we put into your conscience is unlike most creations in the world of robotics."

"It's true. The inner-workings of your mind aren't unheard of, but extremely rare nonetheless. You were _designed_ to experience the exact same emotions that humans feel," Marvin added with a nod.

I quirked a brow, "But why? Why is it so important that I feel the same way?"

"Because it will be easier for people to relate to you. A machine on its own with a simple task, such as picking up items or looking up answers in seconds flat, is merely a cold shell with cogs and wires compared to human beings," Marvin explained.

"That's because that's exactly what they are," I couldn't help but state.

"Precisely. But you're different, Fandroid. You're not just a cold, hard shell like the rest of them. And for the greater good, the world will know that _that_ is who you really are," Ian pointed out.

I became more engrossed by the second, "And what exactly is that?"

"We've left that explanation for a good friend of ours," Marvin informed and outstretched a hand, referring to the door. I turned around, interested, and saw a new figure standing in the doorway.

* * *

 **More and more secrets are being revealed, and so are some small hints. Pay attention and you might find them all.**

 **Until the next chapter, I'm TRikiD, bye-bye!**


End file.
